Inheritance
by Yeekininedot
Summary: One average, boring day, Harry finally succumbed to the darkness within his mind. At last, The-Boy-Who-Lived takes control of his life, and learns some astonishing facts along the way. Dark Harry! Disclaimer: I do not own
1. Chapter 1

**Well, here it is- my first fanfic! Let's hope it isn't a huge failure, no?**

**Anyways- if you review (and I'd prefer it if ya did), Constructive criticism only, please!**

Harry stared listlessly at the wall, melancholy spreading through his veins like quicksilver. The summer weeks had been long and tedious, crammed with chores as his aunt and uncle demanded him to do vulgar tasks like some house elf.

His lip curled. Stupid fools. If he survived until he was seventeen, he was definitely getting revenge. Of course, nothing but death would suffice…

Harry gasped as he realized what he had been contemplating. What was wrong with him? The blood magic he had used in second year should have sealed all such thoughts away, never to be witnessed…and more importantly never carried out.

He shuddered as he imagined some of the tortures his 'Slytherin self' had imagined. The vast majority included someone either screaming with pain, or moaning as they twitched in a bloody mess on the floor.

He attempted to ignore the fact that a thrill went through him at the sight of blood, that he delighted in other's misery. He struggled to suppress the lurking suggestions that if he twisted the Mudblood's arm –no, Hermione! He scolded himself- she would scream in such a pretty way…

Harry slapped himself out of his daze. The blood magic was obviously not working. The repressed urges were escaping their cage.

A moonbeam curved its way into the window, a ray of the pearly essence of the moon. The Potter heir's eyes glanced out into the darkness encroaching outside his window. The darkness…without a second thought, he followed the primal urge and slipped out the windowpane easily.

Uncertain about where he was going, he strolled down the lane, enjoying the night air. Instinctively, he kept out of the glow thrown by the lamppost, again not certain why he did so.

He followed the almost full moon and found himself in the park.

Out of habit, he sat down on the broken swing and stared moodily at his feet. With a start, he realized that his shoes were still in Dudley's second room. He refused to call it his own- the room at Grimmauld Place was his, not that sad excuse of a closet.

_But was it really? _Was the room at Grimmauld Place really his? Legally it was, since Sirius had left it to him, but did it actually feel akin to home?

Harry growled in frustration, not having a ready answer for that. Ever since Sirius had gone into the Veil, he had felt out of sorts. Everything he did was mechanical; he did it, but was not really there.

Everyone he loved had died; it was only a certain amount of time before Voldemort got a hold of Hermione and Ron.

Suddenly, he felt something inside of him move. Harry froze, a strange expression on his face. What the hell?

His gut rumbled, and he clutched it fearfully. What the fuck?!

Was this some strange scheme of Voldemort?

_No, _the answer came to him immediately. This was something more. His scar wasn't hurting. The sensation increased with power, and he found himself off the swing and on the ground on his knees.

Pain flared up in his core, until he couldn't retain his screams. Blood poured out of long scratches, fashioned from his nails dragging down his arms. _Something _was trying to get out.

He howled as darkness conquered his mind, until all he could see was the raging shadows. It was him, he realized blankly. The blood magic had been bested by…what, he didn't know. However, he wasn't to inclined to worry about the delicacies of the situation when agony was tearing him apart inside.

With a final scream, Harry Potter succumbed to the darkness in his mind and the pain destroying his very soul.

--

The sun awoke with a fiery passion, a crimson blaze that indicated the beginning of a new day. With a plum paintbrush, the vast sphere of daylight smothered the land with hues of purple, red, and pink, infinitely much too cheery for so early in the morn.

At least, that was the opinion of a certain green eyed teen that laid on the park ground, staring at the sky.

Harry blinked owlishly, sitting up cautiously. When no remnant of the night previous existed to make his life a living hell, he sighed gratefully. At least his throat wouldn't have an excuse to ache any worse.

The Potter heir blinked as he surveyed his surroundings. Everything was fuzzy; obviously, his glasses had fallen off due to his actions last night. With a sigh, he squinted at the earth around him, noticing with some surprise that the soil was red with blood.

_His_ blood, most likely, he realized. Encouraged by the desire to know what happened to him, he resumed his search.

Five minutes into his quest, he sat back and grumbled to himself. "Damn glasses…" Harry reached a hand up and brushed his bangs from his eyes, freezing as he did so. Why was his hair so long? And was that his glasses _on his face already? _

He peeled off the wire rims, laughing at his stupidity. As soon as the glasses were off, his vision cleared. "I suppose I don't need them anymore…" He talked aloud to himself, after putting them on and off repeatedly.

Throwing them aside, ignoring the moral code to never litter, he stood up smoothly.

Instantly, he almost stumbled and fell. The ground was farther away then he last remembered it. Stunned, he glanced down at his hands. They were pale and elegant, with an aristocrat's extensive fingers.

Now utterly gob smacked, Harry struggled to come to terms with this new development. His hands looked like a _Malfoy's,_ of all people. A shudder racked his body at the thought. That was disturbing to simply think about.

Sighing, he glanced about for anything that would pass as a mirror. However, the fact that there had been no rain for the past four weeks promised that all puddles were nonexistent and the metal on the playground was not the consistency of a mirror.

Deciding on going back to the Dursley's for the item, Harry slipped in through the trees and towards the general direction of the house. Order members would most definitely be lurking about; it would not be wise to be seen, when he himself had no idea how he had changed.

With a confident gait, the green eyed teen glided through the trees and onto the Dursley property. After examining the perimeter and noting that only the perfectly ordinary grass blew in the wind, he snuck in through the back door.

The Dursleys, oblivious to his entrance, continued to get ready for the new day. He could hear Petunia singing in the shower, wincing as her voice reached a rather high-pitched warble.

Reaching Dudley's old room without incident, he closed the door silently and dug into his trunk.

The Dursleys had allowed him to put his trunk in his room, surrendering to his constant pestering. Finally, he was able to get his homework done before he went to the Weasley's.

Harry's heart constricted as he touched the fragmented mirror Sirius had given him. The panes of glass were still connected, though thoroughly cracked. It would have to do, as the Dursleys were occupying the bathroom with the full body mirror.

Taking a steady, reassuring breath, he stared at the mirror.

Pale skin flowed smoothly over finely sculpted cheekbones, unblemished and smooth as a babe's. Long, wavy black hair contrasted decently with his skin, accentuating his vibrant jaded eyes.

His figure was tall and lithe, bringing to mind a predator hunting its prey. His awkward teenage body had been replaced by smooth and graceful movements, and long ropy muscles purred down his arms and legs.

Shock vibrated through his entire being, breathes coming fast and shallow. What the hell had happened?

For one terrible moment, Harry wondered if he was some long-lost relative of the Malfoy's; it would explain everything. However, the steel grey eyes were always apparent in any Malfoy, and his sparkling green was far from it.

His eyes became distant as he was pulled into an entertaining torture he could force the Malfoy's through. One that would most definitely have muggles and impure Mudbloods.

The smirk that slid briefly across his face was replaced with one of horror. He needed to fix the prison on his 'Slytherin self.' It would not do to accidentally call Hermione 'Mudblood' after all.

Even if it was true.

--

The Dursleys left later that day for some clothes shopping for their Duddykins, leaving Harry alone to plot like only a Slytherin can.

His first course of action would be to create a glamour that would hide his new features, preferably strong or impermeable. If he remembered correctly, the Mudblood had once said that the Ministry could not track wandless magic. He would have to test that.

Hopefully, the Knight Bus would be in the area, as he would need to get to the Leakey Cauldron and Diagon Alley for a shopping trip. How had he ever lived in these filthy robes?

Then he would have to go to Gringotts and check up on his Vaults. Maybe even a potion that would reveal who his parent's were- since it was obvious Lily and James weren't his parents. At least, one of them wasn't.

Afterwards, he would be free to do as he wished; even visit Knockturn Alley, as the Weasleys had never allowed him to go there, as it was a nest for snakes and dark wizards…

With a start, Harry finally comprehended how much his friendship with the Weasleys had cost him. Without their bigoted views, he would have ended up in his proper house; he would have been much more powerful then the wizard he was currently.

_Well, _he thought critically, _it's high time to change all that, no? _

_-- _

The next day found Harry up bright and early at dawn, wearing clothes that could pass as a rather eccentric muggle or prudent wizard venturing out into muggle London.

After a brief moment of concentration, Harry looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. None of the Dursleys got up this early, so he was safe from their prying eyes. Of course, their reaction to seeing him use magic would be hilarious.

Dark brown hair cascaded down broad shoulders, and matching brown eyes pierced him in a haughty glare. His nose was curvilinear, akin to Snape's but much less prominent. A pointed chin gave his face a narrow look, completing the pureblood facade. He was tall, dark, and mysterious; handsome, but not enough to comment on as he passed by.

Smirking at himself, he turned on his heel and disappeared out the back door, absentmindedly casting a wandless _Silencio _on himself. He laughed at Tonk's futile attempts to hide herself in the shrubbery, listening with no small amount of amusement as she cursed and ranted.

After appearing out of the forest in the park, Harry traveled farther down the lane and summoned the Knight Bus, giving Stan the money necessary and looking for all the world that he owned the magical vehicle, and only out of the decency in his heart was he allowing them to come along.

Harry bought the offered Daily Prophet, though, with concealed eagerness. That bastard Dumbledore had kept him cooped up all summer; going in ignorant of the current goings on in the Ministry would be foolhardy indeed.

The very first page consisted of death, murder, and mayhem. A slight smirk played on his lips as he read about Voldemort's latest endeavor, a raid against a muggle town not far from London. A large picture depicted the Dark Mark floating over the town, evil and conniving.

The rest of the paper was filled with pointless political maneuverings and tedious reports on the latest styles, manufacturers, and business deals. Harry was relieved when they finally screeched to a halt outside the Leakey Cauldron; he wouldn't be forced to continue to read the Prophet's prejudiced lies.

Harry slipped easily into the Leaky Cauldron, sighing at the racket the other wizards were creating. Give him the quiet solitude of the library any day. Sneering as a witch with a mop of mousy-brown hair almost tripped and fell in front of him, the Potter Heir entered Diagon Alley.

With unnatural grace Harry slipped past the crowds like a wraith, ignoring the shops on display. No one noticed his passage; and with a smirk Harry realized that he liked it this way. Not one wizard or witch thought him out of the ordinary. It was a pleasant change from the usual crowds he received as Harry Potter.

Reaching Gringotts without any hassles, he marched inside, slightly nervous. Goblins could see through glamours; it would not do to have his new identity announced for the whole world to see. Of course, the Goblins wouldn't want to destroy a potential deal, and were said to be ferociously protective of secrets…

With a mental shrug, the seventeen year-old decided to let it be. He only could roll with the punches, now that he was here.

"Can I help you?" Sneered the goblin, sitting on the high chair behind a mahogany counter.

"Yes; I would like to see the manager of the Potter vaults." He announced with all the authority he could muster.

"Oh? And who are you to demand this?" The goblin snarled, evidently not able to notice his glamours… or simply seeing through them and only noting his changed features.

Sighing, Harry readied himself to explain…only to be interrupted by a semi-familiar voice. "Mr. Potter!"

Turning, Harry glanced down at the little midget that had called his name. Like all goblins, he was wearing a brown-gray robe that did nothing for his complexion.

"Come along, then, Mr. Potter, I suppose you are here for the letter?" Snapped the little munchkin briskly, twirling around and marching down the aisles to the back of the room. Harry stared after him in surprise. What letter? And how did he know he was Potter, when he was so obviously different?

Shrugging, and deciding that the goblin had more of an idea of what was going on then he did, Harry followed the goblin past hallways and through corridors.

Finally, they reached their destination…wherever there destination was, Harry thought morosely.

Russet colored couches and chairs were placed strategically around the room, with an occasional coffee table offered as a footstool- or, for the more conventional use of a place to set your tea.

Sitting next to the fire, Harry shook his head. He had always considered the goblins to never be able to have such a cheery room- if you could call all these shadows 'cheery.' The goblin cleared his throat, tearing him out of his musings.

"Now, Mr. Potter… my name is Gobhook, the manager of your Vaults." Gobhook paused, as if contemplating on how to continue. "For the past sixteen years we have held this letter, addressed to you from your parents."

Curiosity piqued, Harry took the letter from the little man's hand.

The letter, sealed with the Potter crest, seemed dreadfully formal and forbidding. However, the possibility of discovering what was going on was to tempting to pass up. With a deep breath, Harry slipped a fingernail into the seal and began to read.

_Dear Harry _

_If you are reading this, then it is more likely then not that we are gone. I apologize for this, Harry, as we cannot be there to tell you this. _

_I loved your father, Harry, I truthfully did. And when we realized I was pregnant, cheer immediately permeated the household. However…you are not James' son. You see, a few months before I accepted James' proposal, I got drunk—yes, I admit, not very smart—and had a one night stand with a dark, mysterious character. When I realized that I was pregnant, I immediately accepted the proposal and you came- a bit premature, at least to the hospital's standards. _

_When you were born, Harry, you were magnificent- the most beautiful babe a mother could ever ask for. However, it was obvious James was not the father. I told your father- and for once, he tamed his lion temper and helped me with the blood ritual. However, the spell will not fade until you reach sixteen. It was agreed that no one really needed to know- it wasn't their business. Thus, the secret is confined within the family. _

_Blood tests are not safe on infants, and consequently we have not a clue whom your father is. Despite this, you are our son. It does not matter who sired you; remember, you are your own person. If you decide to seek this mystery man out, go ahead and do so. He is family, whatever the circumstances. _

_Remember, we love you, Harry. _

_Lily and James Potter_

Harry stared at the letter in shock. He wasn't their son? He was a bastard? What? The implications raced through his mind. Maybe he had surviving family? Could he finally have what he had always wanted; a home, someone to look up to? Someone…to call 'Dad'?

Shifting his piercing green gaze to Gobhook, he asked, "Do you know what this letter contains?"

"No, Mr. Potter. But I was told that you might visit Gringotts sometime near your birthday, and that despite your…odd appearance, you would be Harry Potter."

"But how did you know if it was me?" Harry replied, slightly suspicious.

"A simple magic reading charm, Mr. Potter." The Goblin retorted. Harry considered the answer before accepting it. That might be a disadvantage when he wanted to stay anonymous. However, the letter's contents returned to haunt him. Who was his father?

"Do you have any Blood Tests available?" He asked politely. It would not do to make enemies with this man…goblin.

The goblin eyed him strangely, as if sizing him up. "Yes…we do. However, it will cost you…"

His voice trailed off, and Harry rushed to placate him. "Any price is fine. But, I will need the utmost privacy on the results."

Nodding, the goblin excused himself with a low growl. The Potter Heir stared moodily into the flickering flames of the fire, struggling to comprehend the facts. He was a lovechild, the result of a night of lust between his mother and…an anonymous male. Sighing, he fingered the soft cloth of the couch. Would his father accept him? Was he even still alive? Viciously, Harry quelled the hope that threatened to leap in his chest. He had experienced disappointment way to many times in his life.

Gobhook returned with a vial of softly glowing liquid, handing it to him.

"The following events will not be repeated or shared, understand?" Harry demanded, apprehensive. If Dumbledore knew he had escaped his clutches…

"Of course, Mr. Potter!" The little man seemed insulted. "Gringotts prides itself on its protections and fortifications against any and all outside influences. Everything that happens here stays here."

Slightly embarrassed, Harry shrugged and pricked his finger with an offered needle. A drop of blood poured into the vial, turning the potion an ugly brown color.

Harry banished the needle with a careless wave of his hand, concentrating on the potion. The coffee tinted liquid inside turned a forbidding black, and a tendril of mist twisted its way into the air.

_Lily Evans-Potter _

Frowning slightly, Harry waited impatiently for his father's name. Why couldn't the potion work any faster?

Finally, after a million years, the second name slithered from the potion.

The mist took the form of a snake, writhing in the air before forming the much sought name.

_Tom Marvolo Riddle _

**So, yeah. Review, if you want to...it'd be nice if you did, though. . please note that it is my first fanfic, and thus that I'm new at this! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do Not own**

**Many thanks to KayteexRockstar, raikota, animehpgurl WynterRavenheart, and darkxangelx-xo, maraudersbanana Xenia Marvolo, Ater Phasma and angelkitty77 for reviewing!**

**Oh yeah-**

**While TR/HP is Awesome, this Voldemort/Harry pairing is purely Father/son.**

**Sorry if that disappointed anyone. **

**(Thanks to WynterRavenheart for reminding me to mention this)**

Harry stared at the potion in shock, mouth hanging open. No, No, No, No!

Rounding on the goblin nearby, he snarled. "Your potion is defective! This is just some insane plot cooked up by Voldemort…to drive me insane! Yes!" Leaping up, the Gryffindor advanced upon the magical creature. "So, the goblins conspire with Voldemort, eh?" He ranted, stumbling forward. "Well I-

Gobhook glared at the boy, momentarily distracted from the potion's startling results. "Now see here, Mr. Potter-Riddle," he snapped, driving the information home. "We of Gringotts have always been neutral in Wizarding matters. No matter the cost, we would not conspire with one faction or another. We simply protect Wizarding profits and family Vaults. Now," he continued, calming down, "the results of the blood test –and, I assure you, are completely correct- are highly confidential. No one shall ever obtain them without your permission."

Harry stared at Gobhook for a time, debating on whether to pummel his face in or sulk. Choosing the latter, he slumped back in his seat, dejected. Absentmindedly, he waved a hand over his face and canceled the glamour he had placed on himself.

Those pale features- the long, aristocratic hands, the slim body, his long, flowing hair, his Parseltongue ability- were all inherited from his …from Voldemort. A disgusted shudder wracked through his body. This was not possible. This was bordering on the insane. How in hell had this happened? Sinking into his own pit of despair, Harry was oblivious to his surroundings, brooding on the utmost far-fetched, impossible thing in the world- that Voldemort was his father.

--

Gobhook finally left after twenty minutes of brooding from the Potter Heir. _Seriously, _he thought exasperatedly, _one would think he would get over it by now. _

Despite his callous thoughts, Gobhook did indeed feel a twinge of sympathy for the boy. While neutral, the goblins always kept up to date on the happenings of the Wizarding world. He did not envy the Boy-Who-Lived at all; he never had. And to have your greatest enemy be your father…that was horribly ironic, no?

With a sigh, Gobhook retrieved the Heritage recorder. Gringotts would have to change the records… An annoyed sigh erupted from his mouth. He would be stuck in his office for the next few days. Wonderful.

--

After several minutes of brooding, Harry realized that Gobhook was talking to him. "Er, what was that?"

The goblin rolled his eyes irritably. "I said, Potter-Riddle, that with this new found revelation, your expected blood results will be different, and Gringotts needs the information for our records."

Harry narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but was intrigued nonetheless. Voldemort had most likely monopolized the Slytherin line and others, but it would be advantageous to know some of Voldemort's inheritance, and thus have an idea of how much wealth the bastard had. He ignored the fact that those bloodlines were also his own.

Nodding in assent, he watched Gobhook take out a small vial of crystal clear potion, uncorking it. "Now, Mr. Potter-Riddle, I need another drop of your blood."

Hesitating only slightly, Harry gave the blood necessary, thinking that he was becoming too lenient with the blasted stuff.

Immediately, the potion turned a murderous black, and a piece of parchment popped out of nowhere nearly visibly startling him. His nerves were shot, he supposed; learning that a certain Dark Lord was your father could do that.

Gobhook took the paper and held it up to the sparse light, before clearing his throat.

"Now, Mr. Potter-Riddle, it seems that, once again, you surprise people." He continued, handing the paper over.

Harry stared at the paper, disappointed. _So it wasn't all simply a ruse, _he thought sullenly.

_Bloodlines: _

_Slytherin _

_Ravenclaw_

_Gryffindor _

_Gaunt _

_Black_

_Lesser Bloodlines _

_Idion _

_Oderiad_

_Riddle _

Harry took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and struggled to comprehend everything. Who were the Idion? And the Oderiad? What the hell?

Suddenly, Harry shook his head. This was too much. "Apologies, Gobhook, let's finish this meeting some other date." Not giving Gobhook time enough to answer, he stumbled out, reapplying the glamour.

"I'll come back…later…" He mumbled, and did what any sane person would do; got drunk.

--

Harry stared moodily out the balcony at the setting sun.

If only he could fly off into that golden pink light, be free, be utterly and completely free from the politics of the Magical world, Dumbledore's manipulations, be free from Voldemort just once- _if wishes were fishes…_he thought bitterly.

Harry growled as he remembered the previous day.

_After waking up with a torturous headache and no recollection of the period after he had left Gobhook, Harry found himself at the Dursleys. How he managed to sneak by the Order's sentries in his intoxicated state was a miracle in itself, he figured. _

_Eventually, Harry dragged himself out of bed and snuck out of the house once again, leaving for Diagon Alley. _

_Thankfully, his pounding headache had dispersed, and he could think somewhat rationally. However, he rather preferred the feeling of blank numbness to this deep depression. _

_Gobhook met him at the door, easily seeing through his evil and mysterious pureblood glamour. After boring pleasantries and social necessities, the goblin finally directed the conversation to the topic he dreaded and needed to talk about- His new inheritance, and the measures to keep his heritage from Voldemort and everyone else. _

_It seemed that the Idion and Oderiad families were extremely old and ancient, with the Oderiad being officially Dark; regretfully, it hardly did anything for him as it was all under Voldemort's control. The Ravenclaw Vaults were the most secure out of all of the available vaults, as it was the only one not connected with Harry Potter._

_He had been confused as to how he was still the Potter heir- until Gobhook had conveniently explained to him that James had magically adopted him in secret, showing the signatures and document as proof. _

_Most surprising was the fact that he was Ravenclaw's Heir. Apparently, Lily Evans in reality came from a line of squibs from Ravenclaw's line. It surprised him, as he had never had bookish tendencies like Hermione. And the hat hadn't even considered Ravenclaw for him. _

_The Black inheritance had been expected. Due to a ritual –perfectly light, of course- that Sirius and he had done, he was Sirius' blood Heir; therefore, it was anticipated that the Black family would come up on his test. _

_However, nothing could really shock him anymore since when he realized that…Voldemort… was his father. _

_Despite this, he had been pleased when the results of the Blood test and Heritage recorder were locked up in one of the most protected Vaults Gringotts had available. No one would be able to read them; only he, as Ravenclaw's Heir and …Voldemort's son, could obtain access. _

_It continued to baffle him how Voldemort, of all people, could have ever done anything _remotely_ sexual. It created a horrible mental image, and even attempting to imagine the handsome Tom Riddle doing…it…was scarring. _

_With the knowledge that his secret was safe with Gobhook, Harry had, for the first time, explored his Vaults and the deeds to the properties he owned from the Potter Vault. _

_There was, Harry had thought in conclusion, way too many for one simple family. The Potters had accumulated their wealth over thousands of years, much like the other founders, but while they searched for knowledge, the Gryffindors had all the Quidditch supplies of the ages. The Gryffindor vault had had a surprising number of books, but the rather large supply was useless to him. With their narrow-minded views, the descendants of Godric Gryffindor had only collected Light books. _

_However, the Ravenclaw vaults had been amazing. _

_Upon entering them, Harry knew he would enjoy these Vaults especially more then the Potter's. _

_Everything was a profound, royal azure, accentuating the tapestries of the moon and stars draped over millions of bookshelves. Shadowy light filtered through the chambers, echoing off stony walls swathed in sapphire velvet. _

_He had immediately fallen upon the books, ecstatic when he found many on the Dark Arts. Ravenclaws, he supposed, drove to learn any and all knowledge. _

_Eventually, Gobhook had torn him away from the books, showing him the rest of the Ravenclaw legacy. _

_From what he had heard of his mother, she was the ideal Ravenclaw; intelligent, driven with the desire to _know_. In that aspect, Harry had to admit that he took after his …father…in both looks and disposition. It was a horribly terrifying thought, both for him and the Light. If he were to join the Dark (assuming that Voldemort would accept him), the Light would be thoroughly screwed. A mini-Dark Lord was not something they needed. _

_After taking care of some paperwork, Harry had explored his new properties, searching for somewhere that he could reside. _

_With a Slytherin's preference for dark, shady locations, Ravenclaw Manor was somewhere he could finally relax. Set on a hill deep within Russia, it was in the heart of pureblood society. Every pureblood family worth their Scotch had a manor or two within the city. _

_The Ravenclaw library was of legendary proportions, with books on all subjects; Herbology, Defense, Light magic, Dark magic, and Grey magic, with many more he had never heard of. He couldn't wait to explore the library's depths. Lost magic simply waiting to be found- it was paradise, and he couldn't wait to take a permanent vacation. _

_The Black Vaults he had gone through previously with Sirius, and he left them alone, to be addressed when he felt like it. He still couldn't believe that he was finally ripping the strings off his limbs, escaping Dumbledore's reach. It was an addictive feeling, one that he could get used to. _

_Promising himself that he would return, Harry had then visited his delightful relatives, sneaking past the Order easily. It really was sad, he reflected, that their vigilance was so lacking. Little wonder why they needed a teenager to fight their own battle. _

_Upon walking into the living room with a 'Boy-Who-Lived' glamour on, his relative growled. "I thought you were gone, boy." His uncle sneered, lounging on the couch. Petunia and Dudley were gone, having left for the carpet store. (Dudley loved to climb on the carpet rolls.)_

"_Sorry to disappoint you, uncle." He said silkily, heading for the stairs. _

"_Wait, boy! Where the hell have you been?" He snarled, advancing upon the teen. _

"_Does it matter?" Harry snarled in return, turning cold emerald eyes on the muggle. How he had lived with these freaks for sixteen years never ceased to amaze him. _

_Suddenly intimidated, Vernon Dursley sputtered heatedly. "We-well, of course! If those freaky friends of yours come by looking for you, what are we supposed to say?!" _

_Exasperated, Harry pulled out his wand. "Look, you bastard, you have two choices. One, leave me alone and never mess with me again; Two, continue to annoy me and meet your beloved parents in Hell." _

_Dursley stared at his nephew, stunned. What had happened to the submissive, dutiful freak with absolutely no spine at all? _

_Harry smirked. "Well, uncle, I assure you that you will never see me again. And if you do…" He leaned forward, an evil glint in his eye. "…If you do see me again, you will be dead." _

_Laughing at the dumbstruck and fearful expression on his uncle's face, Harry sauntered up to Dudley's old room, summoning his few belongings to him with wandless magic. He burned his Gryffindor clothes with a softly spoken 'Incendio,' realizing the gravity of what he was doing. There was no going back. _

_As he shrunk his belongings, Harry turned on his heel and left the Dursley house, obliviating his uncle with a strong memory charm. It was as strong as he could make it, yet as inconspicuous as possible. With his wand, he knew he could do better- but, with the Ministry's tracking charm, it was impossible to do so. Sadly, he couldn't let his relative remember he was here- he simply wanted to disappear off the face of the earth. The fat old bastard would most definitely rat him out if he did know. _

_He left without being apprehended by anyone, Order or muggle, and effortlessly used an untraceable portkey to his new home- Ravenclaw Manor. _

The day had been productive, he thought distantly. Sitting on the balcony, watching the sun dye the land a glorious bloody red, Harry had to admit that life was looking up.

He had finally stopped lying to himself; he was Slytherin, utterly and truly. Never again would he be manipulated, never again would anyone control his life. Voldemort and Dumbledore could go kiss his arse. He wouldn't be a weapon- he would create his own name, his own life, and laugh as the Light and Dark murdered each other.

A small pop beside him revealed one of the manor's house elves, carrying some refreshments.

"Master Harry, sir. Tweedy has your drinks." The house elf said humbly, eyes cast to the ground.

"Thank you, Tweedy," He replied absently, sipping the cool liquid.

What was there to do, now that he had officially cut ties with Britain? Should he roam the world, like Voldemort had done? It was an intriguing prospect. Albania was a nest of rare snakes and Dark artifacts. He would have to plan a trip.

It was wonderful, he thought again with a smile. It was wonderful to be able to choose where he wanted to go, and not have to ask anyone. To be independent, do what he wanted; Dumbledore wasn't here, breathing over his neck and brainwashing him.

Taking a sip from his tea, Harry stretched and roamed to the edge of the veranda, watching the sun release its hold on the world to the moon in a brilliant flash of green. Twilight descended upon the Russian countryside, and with a skip in his step the Master of the house ambled off into the depths of his home.

Ravenclaw Manor was a blend of dignity and calm, and the silence that filled the halls was one commonly found in a library. Harry loved it. He loved the dark blue carpets, the rich mahogany furniture, the well of knowledge that was hidden in the bookshelves. It fitted his mood, and he could find peace in the tranquil silence.

Harry made his way to the Master bedroom, sighing with pleasure when he hissed out the password in Parseltongue. While he had not had to change the décor of the mansion terribly, the Master bedroom had been completely renovated. Green and blue in the most sinister hues available had been applied to the walls, desk, and any other surface available. The enormous bed, with its luxurious silky sheets, had been altered to match his own personal tastes; black and silver. The bathroom connected to his room was immense in itself, identical to the pattern of his suite.

However, the bathroom was his favorite room in the whole house. Having been forced to share a restroom all his life, first with the Dursleys, then with the Gryffindors, he had never been able to relax in his _own_ bathroom. Consequently, the fact that he now could take a bath whenever he desired was a delight in itself.

As Harry dimmed the lights with a casual wave of his hand, he contemplated his old family. Ron, Hermione, the Weasleys, Remus, and, yes, even Dumbledore- he would have been willing to give his life for them a few days ago.

_Just as Dumbledore wanted, _he thought sourly. He had played right into the Headmaster's hands, being young and naïve. Desperate for friendship, he had overlooked Ron and Hermione's blaring faults. In need of a family, he had done anything for the Weasley's approval. Wanting to be accepted in Gryffindor, he hated Slytherins and believed wholly and completely in the Light.

Anger broiled up within him. He had become the perfect icon of the Light, innocent, naïve, rash, and relying on morals, because of Dumbledore's manipulations. Slowly, Harry quelled the fury. He would get his revenge- just not at the moment.

The thoughts of revenge brought him to the next topic of worry. What would Voldemort do? What would he do, with Harry Potter gone and missing? The Dark Lord would most likely search for him, but how intense and widespread? How far would he go, to find his enemy?

_To the ends of the earth, _the chilling thought echoed in his mind. Voldemort was not merciful; he would hunt down any and all traitors, all cowards, and every single foe until the world was under his dominion.

The thought that his own father desired his blood to be gushing out of a fatal wound in his neck was not a cheerful one. Why he was cursed, he didn't know. Everything he wanted seemed to be impossible to have. _Everything except my own life, _he thought determinedly. _I will begin anew. I am no longer The-Boy-Who-Lived. I am Harry Riddle, bastard son to the most feared wizard in society. _

_I am in control of my own destiny. No one shall ever order me about again. _

**So..yeah. Tell me what ya think, please!**


	3. Chapter 3

Note from the author!

My god. I can't believe I abandoned Inheritance for as long as I did! Merlin.

Yet, I'm sure that many of you understand why I did. There are just so many things wrong that I can't help but flush in shame whenever I think of it. It's poorly planned and poorly written; it is not something I would like to be caught dead with, but, there you go. I'm keeping it up as a reminder to myself as how I am _not _supposed to write. But I've gotten over my writer's block (for now) and am up and ready to write some more!

However, the new version of Inheritance, called 'The Perfect Beast', has some distinct details varying from it's predecessor. And it is those that many of you may not appreciate; such as, in the new version, Harry does not show signs of becoming ultra-super Evil. At least, I hope he doesn't seem that way, for I do not plan for him to walk such a road. As well, he does not go out and start hating Dumbledore. Or thinking that he is manipulative. Too often lately have I noticed that many, many, _many_ people rely on a Manipulative!Dumbledore to push their Harry into darkness. I decided that I wanted my Harry to fall not from his distrust for a certain Headmaster, but from his own qualities and experiences. He also does not get some mysterious, weird inheritance from some random family names in his Ancestry test. I can't recall why, exactly, I threw those in there, and I have no desire for them to continue their role in my story. I'm sorry if that disappoints some of you.

In general, however, I'm pretty confident that The Perfect Beast has a much better quality to it than Inheritance. Hopefully those who decide to go on to The Perfect Beast agree!~

My apologies to everyone that reviewed, added this to their favorites and/or to their Alert list. If you are, indeed, in the forgiving mood, I will send you a thousand and one galleons to your Gringotts Vault via Muggle check. (No, it's not bribery, it's only... showing gratitude.)

And a humongous Thank You to all those who reviewed! Woohoo! I know you've all probably forgotten about this story, but still, I haven't forgotten you!

Yeekininedot


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